


Fool

by capeswithhoods



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeswithhoods/pseuds/capeswithhoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark does everything in extremes, and there are really no exceptions to that rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration sparked from Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath, including some lines from the poem itself.

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;  
I lift my lids and all is born again—_   
  
“…I think I made you up inside my head.”   
  
And, oh, he’s said that out loud, hasn’t he? Not that it matters, because the only person - thing - around to hear him is Jarvis, who is being (thankfully) quiet, except-   
  
“Sir?”   
  
“Nothing, Jarvis. Abso _lute_ ly fucking nothing. Give me some music, huh?” He needs to stop thinking, especially about really fucking morbid poetry, and what is he, a teenage girl? He’s not  _pining_ , that’s for damn sure, and he needs to cut this shit out.   
  
Jarvis doesn’t reply except to start blaring some AC/DC and god, Tony really loves his genius sometimes, because Jarvis is actually perfect.   
  
——-   
  
Four months ago (and one week, and five days,  _not_  that Tony is keeping track) Loki disappeared.   
  
Things were complicated at best, and there had been a  _very_  uneasy alliance between him and S.H.I.E.L.D. along with (obviously) the Avengers. Tony had made some mistakes that nobody knew about (thank God or gods or what the fuck ever), and he didn’t really start regretting them until much after he should have.   
  
Loki was a smooth-talker, of course he was, his nickname isn’t the liesmith for no reason, but Tony had thought he could see through any and all bullshit, being a Class A Bullshitter himself.   
  
Things did not work out that way.   
  
Loki was in it for himself, naturally, because that’s how things always are with the God of Mischief, and Tony should have known better, really, but sometimes he just can’t fucking help himself, which is why he needs people like Pepper and Steve around, but he’d purposefully kept them in the dark on this one, which is probably what got him into so much shit.   
  
The surprising thing was that even with all the information Loki could have gained about the team and S.H.I.E.L.D., he didn’t attack. Not as a whole, anyway, and not even all as individuals.   
  
He just went straight for Tony’s throat, but he’d been the one stupid enough to offer himself up on a silver fucking platter to the _enemy_.   
  
The first time Loki got Tony alone, he had warned him in a way, and Tony realises that in retrospect, because he had given Tony a look that said  _I’ll eat you alive_ , and told him that he had no sense of self-preservation.   
  
Tony just shrugged at him, because yeah, there is literally nothing more true about him than that.   
  
Things escalated in a way that should have made Tony nervous, should have made him more careful, but somehow it just made him more reckless. Loki wanted information and Tony offered it up, showed him how his technology works because the damn trickster knew just how to stroke his ego in  _all_  the right ways.   
  
It was stupid and dangerous and Tony just could not help himself; a moth to a goddamn flame.   
  
For a while (weeks maybe, and they were agonising because Tony does not wait for things he wants, except for this, apparently) they danced around each other, until Loki made the first real move and pinned Tony against a wall in his workshop to kiss him, all demanding teeth and firm grips and the underlying threat of violence that had Tony so hard so fast he thought he might pass out from the sudden lack of blood flow to his brain.   
  
After that they spent almost as much time fucking as they did talking, which was also very, very dangerous because it gave Loki plenty of perfect opportunities to kill Tony. He could choke him, stab him, bash his head in, even pull the damn arc reactor out of his chest while Tony stupidly let the god do whatever he wanted to him, driven by lust and base instincts that he should really learn to ignore, because all they get him is in trouble.   
  
There were a few times when the conversation drifted to less desirable things, talk about their families, how neither of them were ever good enough, and Tony still can’t decide if it’s something he’s okay with that he and Loki are so alike. But it brought them together, in a weird way, talking about their fucked up families in their afterglow, laying in Tony’s too-large bed with the blue light of the reactor washing over them (making Loki look even more gorgeous than he should be allowed).   
  
——-   
  
 _I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed  
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.   
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_   
  
It’s been four months (and one week, and five days) and Tony still cannot stop thinking about cool hands and fiery words and friction and the  _physics_  of how well they fit together (in body and mind, and Tony hates himself for even thinking it).   
  
For a while, he tries blaming Loki, half-convinces himself that the god had tricked him into wanting him, but Tony can’t kid himself, not this time. He was in full control of his actions and thoughts and that’s what makes it hurt so much, what makes him feel so betrayed, even though he should have known better. It’s not like they were dating. It’s not like Loki was his fucking  _boyfriend_  - he doesn’t even know what they were. They weren’t even friends, so he can’t call them friends with benefits, not even in his head.   
  
But he misses it, whatever they had, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he’d been given an explanation, even a goodbye, or an attempt on his life,  _something_.   
  
Not just Loki disappearing.   
  
Thor hasn’t even been able to find him, and while Tony didn’t think he would be able to do much, his computers couldn’t track Loki’s magic signatures, either, meaning that he was either hiding really, really well, or not on Earth at all anymore.   
  
——-   
  
The new thing he’s working on isn’t even a thing anymore, it’s just scrap metal, twisted and smoking and filling the workshop with an acrid smell because it’s been another week (and two days) and Tony can’t concentrate. Things are getting completely out of hand, because he is Tony Stark and he does not let himself become affected like this, but Loki crawled under his skin (with an open fucking invitation) and Tony can’t get him back out without some serious surgery that he doesn’t even think he has the tools for.   
  
He has missed three S.H.I.E.L.D. meetings and a total of 67 calls from Steve, Pepper, Fury, and even Bruce in the past five days. All of them are worried about him (except maybe for Fury), and all of them probably should be.   
  
Even Tony is worried about himself at this point.   
  
He takes a deep breath, pours himself a glass of scotch and tries to clear his mind. The burn of the alcohol helps considerably, and he takes one sip, two, then downs the rest of it in one large gulp, sighing and smacking his lips once it’s gone.   
  
Dummy is coating his latest failure in fire-extinguishing foam and Tony is watching with mild interest, then pats the robot’s arm and says, “good boy,” because there had actually been smoke that time, which is close enough to fire.   
  
A sensor goes off on his main computer screen, and Tony doesn’t catch it, doesn’t pay attention at all because he’s pouring himself another glass of scotch and telling Dummy that he’s pretty sure he got it, can he please stop filling the workshop with foam now? It’s going to be a bitch to clean up and Tony isn’t looking forward to it at all.   
  
Jarvis pipes up after another few moments of the sensor blinking rapidly. “Sir, my sensors indicate that- oh.”   
  
Jarvis doesn’t get to tell Tony what the sensors indicate, because the workshop is suddenly filled with green light and Loki is standing in the middle of the room, clothes torn and traces of blood leaking from his nose and lip and a small cut on his forehead.   
  
Tony stares at him like an idiot, absently thinks  _I think I made you up inside my head_ , but no, it really is Loki, and he’s  _hurt_  even if it’s not badly, and Tony doesn’t know what to say for once in his life, so he stays silent, mind gone terrifyingly blank.   
  
“You are a fool, Tony Stark,” Loki says after a while, presumably bored of their staring contest, and maybe he can read how much sleep Tony has missed, maybe he can see that he’s even more fucked up than the last time they had seen each other (four months, three weeks ago exactly).   
  
Tony can’t help the weak laugh that forces it’s way out of his suddenly dry throat, and he can’t tear his eyes away from Loki either, even as the god (the trickster, the bastard that got so far under his skin Tony didn’t know what to do with himself) crosses the room to close the distance between them.   
  
“You are a fool,” Loki repeats, voice something that Tony might even think is soft, and yes, he  _is_  a fool, because if he weren’t he would be yelling at Loki, telling Jarvis to alert the team, telling this asshole to get the fuck out of his house because who the  _hell_ does he think he is just showing up after almost five fucking months after disappearing without a word.   
  
Tony doesn’t yell, doesn’t move or say anything, and then Loki’s lips are against his and he can taste blood (always the underlying threat of violence with him, even if it’s not toward Tony for once), except the kiss is surprisingly soft, just like his voice had been, slow and actually gentle, and Loki’s hands are cool against the back of his neck and the side of his jaw, and Tony feels like he’s floating. It could be the alcohol or sleep deprivation, or it could be something else entirely that Tony refuses to acknowledge.   
  
——-   
  
Hours pass and Loki is still there as Tony wakes up; the bastard had insisted that he would not explain until Tony slept, and Tony really had no choice, not if he wanted answers.   
  
Loki’s wounds are healed and he’s clean, hair still damp from a shower, and Tony is a little disappointed that he wasn’t awake for that, but now that he’s slept his mind is working a little better, so once he gets past the fact that Loki is wearing his clothes, he realises that Loki healed himself, which would not normally be a big deal, because of course he did, he can  _do_  that, so why wouldn’t he? But it’s a big deal because he showed up all bruised and cut and hurt, meaning Tony’s workshop was his first stop after he finished doing whatever got him hurt in the first place.   
  
“You came back,” Tony says oh-so-intelligently as he pushes himself upright in his bed.   
  
Loki is sitting in a plush armchair with one of Pepper’s books and a mug of tea, and he sets the book down, not marking what page he was on. “I never intended to leave.” The look on his face says he isn’t lying, and Tony might just be stupid enough to believe him.   
  
“Then why  _did_  you?” And okay, Tony is angry, but fuck it, he has every right to be.   
  
“I had no choice,” Loki states, and there is an edge of ice in his voice that convinces Tony that this is real, that Loki really didn’t want to go. “You are aware that I have many enemies, are you not?”   
  
Tony has a glare fixed on Loki and he doesn’t soften his gaze, just nods curtly, and staying mad is so much easier than anything else he’s feeling right now, so he tries really hard to hold onto it, but it’s more difficult than he expects. “Of course you do. You’re kind of an asshole.”   
  
Loki rolls his eyes and sets his mug of tea down as well, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward, the bad posture not suiting him at all, and Tony doesn’t like how Loki actually looks kind of upset. “I upset the wrong person, Stark. They would have struck… where it would hurt the most, so to speak. I had to ensure that would not happen.”   
  
It doesn’t make sense, not at first, but Tony narrows his eyes at Loki and shifts in his bed so his legs are hanging over the side. “So you broke off contact with me because…?”   
  
A muscle twitches in Loki’s jaw, and he stands to cross the room, just as he had in the workshop, reaching out this time to rest his palm against Tony’s cheek. “You are a fool, Tony Stark,” Loki says for the  _third_  time, and Tony is getting really sick of being called that, except realisation finally dawns on him, and he  _knows_  what Loki means.   
  
Tony grins and pulls Loki down onto the bed, onto him, and wraps his arms around the god despite his half-hearted protests. “So are you,” he says, and maybe being a fool isn’t such a terrible thing.


End file.
